


Always, A Hero Comes Home

by Gigglepud



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: (To Lovers.... sort of), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Hydra (Marvel), M/M, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Prince Steve Rogers, Rumlow and Pierce play minor roles, as do Peggy Carter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-24 02:07:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18561766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gigglepud/pseuds/Gigglepud
Summary: Bucky Barnes’ mission is simple: infiltrate the royal guard and cause the Prince to die a ‘natural death’.On paper, the mission is a cake walk, with good pay to boot. But the more time he spends with one Steven Grant Rogers, the harder it becomes to think of him as only a target.





	Always, A Hero Comes Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chim/gifts).



> Written for the Shrinkyclinks Fest, which I am so so late for (whoops, sorry!)  
> Thanks a lot to the mods for organising the event and to Chim who requested this prompt! 
> 
> Extra special thanks to [HavenRyder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/havenryder) for being the best beta and support - from the initial brainstorming process, to ongoing reminders of my deadline, to essentially writing the fight scene for me because I can't even name punches properly. You are the best!!! 
> 
> Title taken from _A Hero Comes Home_ of the Beowulf soundtrack, ~~once again selected from the pure chance that the song was playing as I was thinking of a title.~~

It all starts near the end of the winter, when Rumlow crashes his way through Bucky’s garden, crushing dew-speckled greens and tentative flower buds underfoot.

Bucky leans against the half-opened front door, placing himself between Rumlow and  the inside of his cottage.

“I thought I told you not to turn up without calling ahead,” Bucky says before Rumlow even has a chance to open his mouth.

Rumlow rolls his eyes, “I did. You never replied to anything I sent.”

“Exactly.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Rumlow waves a hand dismissively. “Look, this one actually pays well. It’s a bit longer than your usual jobs, but we’re willing to pay extra for this one.”

Bucky narrows his eyes at the bright reds and blues of Rumlow coat, a silver insignia of a star in a circle embroidered on his sleeve. Bucky sniffs the air, but it’s devoid of the usual unpleasant odours he’d come to expect from the Hydra mercs.

“Extra means trouble. And I don’t do trouble.”

Rumlow let out a long sigh, shaking his head as if Bucky was just not getting it.

“Extra,” he retorts, laying thick emphasis on the word. “Means no more work for the rest of the year. You still want out?”

*

The thing is, Marvel isn’t a very stable continent, and there’s always something to fight about. He’s pretty sure Jotunheim and Asgard have been throwing their troops at each other since before he was born.

Not that he’s complaining, he’s fought for both sides over the years, and they’re both generous with their pay.

For the most part though, he prefers to avoid the politics. There’s too much thinking involved, for something with so little truth sandwiched between the lies and the greed. It’s easier to live in a small cottage in the outskirts of nowhere important and just not care.

So, when he finds himself riding up to the castle on Captain’s Hill, he certainly had no idea what to expect of the royal family. He feels a shred of pity for this family that has somehow gotten onto Pierce’s bad graces, but only a little – he’s learnt over the years it’s better just to not know what Pierce and Hydra’s bigger schemes are.

Officially, as far as Queen Sarah is concerned, Bucky is the best guard in the continent, taking on the assignment after rumours of a planned assassination on her son.

The most elusive assassins, though, are not the ones no one knows about, but the ones that strut about right in front of everybody’s eyes, with no one the wiser.

So, he has a plan. It’s a great plan. Work for a month,and then he can go back to his flowers and the deep meditative woods for the rest of the year – and he doesn’t even need to do much. Stay in the shadows for 3 weeks, don’t draw attention to himself, and when people forget about his existence; it would be all too easy to orchestrate an accident or two.

*

As is the fate of all great plans, it all goes to shit in the first two minutes.

He’s barely finished introducing himself to the Queen when his assignment slams the door open, marching into the Queen’s study with his chin tilted high.

The prince pauses just long enough to shoot Bucky a glare before he walks up to the Queen.

“I can look after myself. This is just stupid,” he declares without preamble.

Bucky stares. Steve Rogers looks even smaller in real life than on his file, but he carries himself as though he isn’t a skinny thing almost half the width of Bucky.

The Queen rests her head in her hand, her long-suffering sigh  a clear indicator that this is not the first time they’ve had this conversation.

Bucky steps back, slipping into the shadows by the shelves, letting the mother and son talk it out. He’s not worried, the stubborn expression on Steve’s face is reflected two-fold on the Queen’s.

His gaze drifts back to Steve Rogers, instead. His target is in his mid-twenties, only a year younger than Bucky himself. Yet his frame is small, only accentuated by the ridiculous red, white and blue tunic he wears, with a ridiculously huge insignia of a star and shield on his back.

Like a fucking target - it’s like he really is asking to be assassinated.

Bucky is just glad this is just a ruse: he can’t imagine how much of a  pain in the ass it would be to have to protect this guy for the rest of his life, especially if someone else was actually after him.  Especially when Steve is doing all he can to ensure that he has no protection whatsoever.

Bucky holds back a sigh when Steve finally – and by that, it really was after a damn long time – relents, sulking as he storms back to his suite. No time like the present to start his new job, he supposes, as he follows silently.

He’s light on his feet, but he has a feeling that  Steve’s aware of his presence, even though the Prince doesn’t spare him a single glance the entire way.

Bucky’s fine with that. Let Steve’s anger fade and he’ll forget about Bucky’s presence. Bucky’s done protection detail work before, and he’s always been good at the disappearing act.

Yet, the minute Steve sweeps into his rooms, he’s turning narrowed eyes onto Bucky.

“So, what’s your deal?”

Bucky blinks. “What?”

Steve pushes himself into Bucky’s personal space, “What drove you to sign up for this? I doubt it’s patriotic loyalty. So…?”

 “It’s just a job, whatever.” After a beat, he adds, “Your highness.” 

“Right,” Steve pulls a face, bitterness layered thick in his words. “That makes me feel so safe.”

Bucky stares after Steve but doesn’t follow him into the inner rooms. It’s not like Steve actually needs a full-time guard – not when the biggest threat to Steve’s life is Bucky himself.

*

“We should get to know each other.”

Bucky shoots up from his bed. Steve leans against the door, arms crossed, grinning victoriously like he knew just how hard Bucky’s adrenaline is pumping.

“Fuck off,” he collapses back onto his bed. “Just let me know when you’re leaving your suite.”

Which, as it turns out, is annoyingly often. Steve turns out to be the type of prince who sticks his nose in every affair of the country; won’t go without having his say in the matter.

The first day, Bucky had barely finished unpacking his things when he caught Steve trying to sneak out of his own suite. Too bad Bucky was assigned the room closest to the entrance, the suspiciously light footsteps outside enough to have Bucky flinging his door open and catching Steve in the act.

The rest of the day had been one meeting after another, then research in the libraries, then more meetings. Every single time, Steve tries to slip away at the end, using his size and the crowded stream of people leaving the room to his advantage.

“You little shit,” Bucky curses under his breath, when he finally catches up with Steve.

It startles a laugh out of Steve, who was still slightly out of breath from a valiant attempt at running away.

Once Steve settles into the meeting, Bucky steps back. He watches from the corner of the room, not even trying to follow the politics as Steve gets into fight after fight with everyone else in the room. It’s sort of draining, just to watch.

But apparently, Steve still hasn’t had enough. It feels like he only just lay down for the night, but the sun rises early here. And with the glaring sunlight comes the perky prince with way too much excitement so early in the morning.

Why can’t he leave a man in peace for once in his life?

“If you cared so much about your alone time, you wouldn’t have signed up for a full-time 24/7 job,” Steve says as he invites himself into the room “So, tell me what brought you here?”

The promise of some fucking peace for the next 11 months. Bucky glares at Steve, but sits up from his bed anyway – mostly so that he’s not in a vulnerable position but then Steve takes it as permission to sit next to him on the bed.

Bucky watches Steve silently, while Steve stares back coolly. “Okay, what do you expect me to say? I go where the money takes me.” That’s not even a lie.

Steve rolls his eyes, “So dedicated.”

“Hey, you know what? I am. People’s loyalties? That’s all superficial shit that can change overnight, but money and reputation? That shit’s consistent. You pay me? And I do that job, and I’ll do it right, or else no one will hire me again. See, that’s my motivation.”

Steve narrows his eyes, “That’s a stupid reason to fight. You have all this muscle-” Steve pauses, glance sweeping across Bucky’s body, briefly pausing on his left arm. He shakes his head slightly and continues, “You have all this power to fight, and you choose to just do it just for money?!”

“What else am I supposed to do with it?”

“You can actually fight for good. The threat of Chitauri attacking Marvel looms closer every day, and what about mercenary groups like Hydra that won’t stop pillaging the villages?” Steve frowns, “If they would only let me, I’d be out there right now helping however I can.”

Bucky snorts, “How can you help?”

“One day, I want to be out there, physically fighting for them. Right now, I can only be a voice for the people. But at least it’s something, and I’m making sure they’re heard.”

“Most of the time they’re not,” Bucky glances down at the sheets on his bed, his hand clutching it tightly.

“You’re right.” Steve says softly, “But I can try my best, and if more people did, we might actually be able to make a difference. Think about that. If you’re staying with me for the indefinite future, you’ll have ample time to do so.”

As Steve walks out of the room, Bucky can’t help but feel like he’d somehow lost an argument.

*

Bucky had thought that would be it; that after a failed attempt at conversation, Steve would go back to his princely matters and his princely friends, and Bucky would get to stay in his own thoughts and in the background.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

Turns out, once you get Steve talking, he just won’t shut up. Did Steve still talk this much when there wasn’t someone always at his side? Just go off at the empty air as he went around the castle?

Maybe the only reason Pierce really wants him dead is out of concern that the heir to the kingdom is possessed or insane.

Steve no longer tries to sneak out by himself, instead, he eagerly slams open Bucky’s door before the sun rises to drag him out.

Bucky learns that Steve doesn’t only have political matters to attend to. Every morning, he joins the army and guard for their morning run around the castle – inevitably ending in a coughing fit while everyone laps him for the 5th time or so.

It’s genuinely hilarious the first few days, and after then, Bucky continues to laugh anyway, just to see that glare behind Steve’s drenched drooping bangs.

Then, in between breakfast and making an appearance, Steve will pull out his inks and paper for a sketching session. Most of the time, he’ll go further out from the castle to the forest or into town, and just sketch whatever he sees. On days where his frailty prevails over his stubbornness, he forces Bucky to model for him. 

Bucky has yet to decide if that is irritating; for all that he doesn’t want to get involved with whatever Steve does, there’s something calming when he can just sit there, and watch Steve’s brow crunch in concentration.  He can appreciate Steve’s art, at least; Steve’s frustration and helplessness clearly etched onto the paper in long hardened strokes.

Not that he’ll admit it.

“Are you sure that’s supposed to be me?” He holds up the portrait, “Not really sure what you’re going for here.”

Steve smacks on him the back of his head for that. “It’s upside down, you dolt.”

“Oh right,” Bucky feints exaggerated enlightenment. “Sorry, it’s hard to tell the difference.”

Nevertheless, it makes Bucky’s day fly faster, even if he’s still not that inclined to reply to Steve’s one-sided commentary. Sometimes, Bucky wonders if Steve is only being so talkative to drive him off. Steve talks the most when he’s in the royal library, browsing histories and politics with three notebooks open at once and pens with bite marks all over the top.

In Bucky’s opinion, Steve cares too much. When Bucky had once been so passionate… it didn’t end well.

He wanders, while Steve continues to pore over his books. It’s on a lazy afternoon, sometime around the end of Bucky’s first week, that Steve catches him napping on the couch, an open book across his chest.

Steve doesn’t bother to hide his grin, standing straight with arms crossed as if to taunt him.

“What?” Bucky scowls.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” he responds lightly. “Had me worried you’d gone and died over there.”

Bucky flips him off, which only provokes a laugh. Steve nods towards the book instead, “You should bring some back with you, God knows that’s better than just brooding the way you do in your downtime; looking like you’re planning a murder.”

Bucky definitely does not almost fall off the couch. He stares at the book, then glances back at Steve.

“Thanks,” he says, the lightness in his heart surely just from having had a good rest for once.

*

Two weeks into Bucky’s job, Steve breaks into Bucky’s room with a devilish glint in his eye. He gives a Bucky a once over and shakes his head.

“This won’t do,” he tuts, “Don’t you have any other clothing?”

Bucky looks down at himself; he’d adamantly declined the atrocious blue red and white that Steve usually subjects himself to, settling for a suit of black and greys with the royal insignia on his shoulders.

“Not sure if I want fashion advice from you.”

Steve shook his head, “I don’t want to attract attention today.”

Half an hour later, Steve and Bucky were dressed in the simple tunic and breeches, blending in with civilians as they headed into town.

“What exactly are you going?”

Steve shrugs, “Seeing my friends.”

Steve’s friends turn out to be a number of random people in town, of varying degree of knowledge of Steve’s identity. None of them cared at all, though, and they talk like old friends catching up after a long absence.

It’s clear this is more than  just a social visit for Steve, as he pries information about the state of affairs in town without much subtlety. At least most seemed to appreciate the extra ear to listen to their troubles.

Bucky watches Steve’s easy familiarity, not quite a part of Steve’s circle, but not sticking out either.

 Bucky’s role as a shadow continues until the late afternoon, when Steve pays a visit to one Mrs Peggy Carter. He finally gets to take a seat while Steve listens patiently to her complaining about the weeds that have been threatening her flowers.

Bucky recognises the moment when a bad idea enters Steve’s head, the way his eyes dart around the garden as his fingers twitch. Next thing he knows, Steve’s abandoned most of the conversation to attack the weeds like they were invaders to his kingdom.

Bucky lasts about ten minutes watching Steve bent double, gangly limbs flailing about – there’s no way what he’s doing will be good for his back.

“Alright, you imbecile,” Bucky snaps suddenly, surprising himself. “Back off”

Steve sits up immediately, eyes wide staring as if he doesn’t recognise Bucky.

“I can’t bear to watch your pathetic attempts at weeding, that’s all,” Bucky grumbles. “Let me do it so we can all go home sooner.”

Steve raises a sceptical eyebrow, “You sure you got this?”

“Yes, I’m very sure I’ll do a better job than the guy who has royal gardeners to tend his flowers,” Bucky rolls his eyes, “Go back to charming the lady if you must.”

Steve turns back to Carter, who only looks coolly back, a knowing smirk on her lips. Steve’s entire posture relaxes as he joins her once more, a relaxed grin on his face. The work isn’t even that difficult, especially not with the chatter between Steve and Carter filtering into the background.

Though sometimes, Bucky would catch them looking pointedly his way, Mrs Carter with a hand in front of his mouth, whispering in Steve’s ear. It sends prickles down Bucky’s spine, watching the way Steve squirms, jokingly pushing her away as he shakes his head furiously.

Later, as they walked back towards the castle, Steve would sneak glances towards Bucky, presumably whenever he thought Bucky wasn’t looking.

“What?” Bucky demands.

“I didn’t think you’d be the type who likes gardening.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, “I’m not. Mostly because after every job I only get to go home to a wilted garden.”

“That doesn’t sound like a good system.”

“What can you do when you always gotta travel for the job.”

“You can stop taking those jobs,” Steve suggests hesitantly.

Bucky turns to Steve, not expecting those earnest eyes directed straight at him.

“It’s not that simple.”

“Yes, it is!” Steve scowls, “Just in the castle alone there’re so many things you could do! Who says you have to leave straight away?”

Bucky falters in his step, “I thought you didn’t want to keep a bodyguard around.”

“I don’t!” Steve scowls, “But if you’re going to stick around anyway, I’m sure there’s a place for you with the palace guard or whatever when my mother’s over this paranoia phase. Or you know what – just go be a royal gardener instead or something.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, Steve.”

“I’m just saying,” Steve shrugs, “Always an option. If you have to leave again, at least then maybe I could help look after it until you’re back?”

And wouldn’t that be nice, the thought of it, to be able to stay somewhere without needing to be dragged away as soon as Pierce or Rumlow gets impatient with something. What if he had a place like Carter’s and Steve could visit sometimes. He wouldn’t make Steve pull out weeds, but maybe he could water the garden? Help fertilise the flowers – just imagine that, the royal heir with his hands buried deep in shit.

It’s these thoughts that carry Bucky back into the castle, letting him imagine – just for a minute – what life could be like if he were to settle down here.

The dream crashes down back to reality in the form of Rumlow grabbing him on the way to his rooms.  His clenched fists twitch with the sight of Rumlow’s bared teeth grin.

“When are you going to do it, Barnes?”

Bucky’s throat dries. “What?” He says weakly.

“The little prince,” Rumlow snarls. “You’re getting a little friendly there, aren’t you? Don’t you think it’s about time you do what you’re here to do?”

 “I’m just waiting for the right opportunity.”

Rumlow shakes his head, “Pierce is getting impatient, Barnes.” He pulls out a small pouch, shoving it into Bucky’s chest. “Seeing as you’re incapable of finding your own way, here’s some Serpent’s Powder; make sure you administer it over the course of a week, so that it’ll look like he died of illness.”

Bucky swallows. His fingers tighten around the pouch, one heavy ounce weighing down his soul.

*

Steve confronts him almost as soon as he steps back out into the hallway.

“What was that about?”

Bucky doesn’t jump – what kind of assassin would he be if he let some untrained prince sneak up on him? – but he’ll never admit what a close shave it was.

“None of your business,” Bucky looks steadfastly at the door at the end of the hallway as he makes his way to it.

“Hey!” Steve says, keeping pace with a light jog. “Are you running away from me?”

“I don’t have to answer to you about what I do every minute in the castle, Steve,” Bucky tucks his hands into his pockets, but at the touch of the pouch, he pulls out immediately, as if it burns.

“You know, you actually kinda do,” Steve says, but he relents when Bucky still refuses to reply, “Geez, fine, be that way,” Even without looking, Bucky can hear the scowl in Steve’s voice. But when he does turn, what he didn’t expect was the worry on his face. “Rumlow’s bad news, I can feel it. Just… take care, okay?”

Bucky forces his panic into a neutral expression on his face. “What would you know?”

“He works for Pierce, that should tell you enough,” Steve rolls his eyes at Bucky’s blank expression, “Really? Do you not pay attention to all the meetings at all? He’s always pushing for oppression of the people in the name of order-” Steve shudders, “-And the worst part is how fervently his advisors always seem to agree with him.”

Bucky chooses not to respond to that, but before he can get away, Steve grabs his arm.

His eyes widen slowly, “Don’t tell me you agree them.”

Bucky shakes his arm free, “You don’t know me.”

“Then tell me,” Steve puts himself in front of Bucky. He’s terribly inefficient as an obstacle, but also a great one.

Bucky looks into Steve’s defiant glare; a stubborn refusal to budge. It’s clear how Pierce might consider Steve a threat when he’s like this. Bucky takes a deep breath. “They saved my life. Years ago, when I was barely of age, I joined the army to feed my family. When I was injured and left for dead, it was Pierce’s men who found me, and helped me recover. When I’d finally returned home, turns out my family was casualty to a civil revolt and the regime just didn’t give a fuck. Why did I even bother?”

“So, forgive me if I say I don’t care about what’s going on with your politics. I’m just trying to get by, and Pierce was the only one who ever helped me do that.” Bucky traces the palm of his left hand, lifting it into the light. Steve had drawn his attention to it before, but Bucky hadn’t let him inspect it so closely. “When I lost my arm for a country that didn’t actually care about me, it was Pierce who gave me this.”

Steve is silent for a long time, expression clouded. For a moment, Bucky thinks this is it, that Steve would turn him away –now that he knows that he has ties with Pierce.

But Steve’s voice is soft when he finally says, “This is why you should care. To ensure that no other family gets neglected like yours again. Trust me, Pierce’s plans will only cause more suffering in the long run. Don’t you want to prevent more tragedies like yours?”

“And you can?”

Steve lowers his gaze, “Not yet. I don’t have the support yet, but that’s why you matter. Every single person who can help, should help. Give power to the people, let the voices of the underrepresented speak up. That’s all I want.”

Steve walks off with hunched shoulders, and Bucky figures for just one hour, leaving Steve alone would be fine. He heads back to his room, flinging the stupid pouch across the room, watching it skid to a stop by the corner before he collapses onto the bed.

*

It never hits Bucky like a brick falling from the sky. It was never a conscious decision, so much as Bucky simply ceasing to panic whenever he inadvertently reminds himself that Steve is his mission.

They’re having breakfast a morning about almost a month into the mission whenBucky fully registers that his mind has changed. He looks across at the table, seeing Steve’s forehead furrowed as he cuts into his toast. 

Steve catches Bucky’s stare and his scowl only deepens. “What?”

“Nothing,” Bucky says, plastering on a fake smile in hopes of pacifying Steve. “I just realised something.”

A wave of emotion washes through him as Steve turns his attention back to his breakfast.

He would have to leave – in order to protect Steve, he would probably need to tell the Queen who the real threats to his son are; that means revealing who he is. He couldn’t do it through a note, there’s no trusting Pierce won’t twist his words. That means he’s got to put all his cards on the table, and there’s no way Steve could forgive him for that.

So, he would to leave, but even that is okay. At some point, it’s like Steve had pushed and pushed and shattered his wall against the world. As long as Steve is alive, all is okay. Maybe he’ll find a new place closer to his kingdom so he can still hear news of Steve every now and then.

“What are you thinking about?” Steve puts down his knife and fork onto the emptied plate and stands up. “You’ve got a weird look on your face.”

Bucky looks away reflexively. “Nothing. Just thinking of home.”

“You miss it?” Steve says softly, then breaks out into a smirk, “Thinking about what your garden must look like right now?”

“Something like that.”

Steve stills, studying Bucky carefully. “What are you not telling me?”

Bucky shakes his head, “Don’t worry about it. I might be going home soon, that’s all.”

“That makes no sense – aren’t you supposed to stay with me for the foreseeable future?” Steve crosses his arms, glaring down at Bucky.

“It’s not like I have a choice!” Bucky snaps, surprising even himself as Steve flinches. “Sorry, that’s not what I mean. I mean, . Don’t worry about it. Pretend that I didn’t say anything.”

Bucky pushes off from the table, throwing his napkin onto the plate. He looks back as he makes his way to the door. “I need some fresh air; come find me if you need to leave the castle.”

*

In the end, it wasn’t Steve who finds Bucky.

Bucky is out in the balcony, staring out at the expanse of the city that spread out into the horizon, when Rumlow enters the edge of his vision, leaning against the balcony next to him.

"Why the long face?" Rumlow smirks, "Who knew even the Winter Soldier would run into obstacles one day.”  

Bucky looks up at the blue sky, knowing that this is the last time he’ll get to see the view from here.

"No," he clenches his fists, "I'm out."

"What?" Rumlow pushes off the balcony, crowding into Bucky's space. "You wanna say that again?"

Bucky shoves Rumlow off with a hand to his chest. "I'm out!" He snaps, louder. "Now fuck off, I don't want to see your face."

"Oh no, you don't?" Rumlow sneers, regaining his balance. "That's too bad, you don't get to just call it off like that."

Rumlow makes the first swing, not bothering to hide the sound of his footsteps as he rushes at Bucky.

Bucky turns just in time to meet Rumlow's swinging fist with his palm, taking a step back to steady himself from the momentum.

Rumlow yanks his hand back, pulling Bucky towards him as he goes for an uppercut with his other hand.

Bucky dodges, to the right, getting behind Rumlow so he can put him in a chokehold.

“You nutjob,” Rumlow coughs out. Taking advantage of Bucky’s split second of hesitance, he kicks at Bucky’s leg, slamming him backwards.

Rumlow disentangles himself quickly while Bucky’s winded, but before he can attack again, Bucky is back up on his feet. He feints right, causing Rumlow to lunge towards his left. Bucky weaves around outstretched arm to wrap his left hand around Rumlow’s neck, pushing him against the edge of the balcony.

“You don’t want to do that,” Rumlow croaks, somehow still keeping that irritating smirk on his face.

“Try me,” Bucky glowers.

“So, this is how you repay all that Hydra has done for you? You wouldn’t even have this arm if not for the generosity of Hydra.”

“I couldn’t care less,” Bucky had repaid that debt years ago. It would be so easy now, to just tighten his fist and that make that stupid gleeful expression disappear.

“Oh, of course you don’t,” Rumlow continues, but his gaze shifts. Bucky feels his spine chill as his focus lands on somewhere over his shoulder. “But maybe you would be interested to know, how his arm was a gift from Hydra to their best assassin.”

Bucky spins. Steve stands at the threshold, one hand still on the open door, eyes wide and completely still. Bucky freezes, feeling the floor drop from under him.  

The distraction is enough for Rumlow to push free from Bucky, moving out of the reach as Bucky fails to respond.

“Oh, and you know who his latest target is? Did you really think a guy like him would play bodyguard to some frail prince like you?” Rumlow’s laughter sends disgust down to Bucky’s very bones. “In a few weeks, you would just be another number on Barnes’ long list, isn’t that right?”

Rumlow turns his sneer to Bucky, as he inches towards Steve, “It’s such a pity, isn’t it, how the shifty man with the metal arm turned out to be an assassin all along. The brave knight that I am, I was able to expose and take him down. Too bad he succeeded at his task before I could stop him.”

He lunges for Steve, and time slows. Rumlow’s too far; Bucky won’t make it in time—

Steve elbows Rumlow in the face. It’s not enough to do any damage, but it disorients him just long enough for Bucky to snap out of it, grabbing Rumlow by the head and swinging him against the wall.

When Rumlow collapses, he doesn’t get up.

For a moment, there is only the sound of laboured breathing as Bucky stares at Rumlow’s unconscious body. He finds he can’t bring himself to face Steve.

He holds his breath, the moment seeming to stretch as if Steve, too, sees the fragility of the moment. But Steve has never been the type to turn away at signs of trouble.

“Bucky,” his voice was hard, as if he could speak it into reality, “Rumlow was lying, right?”

Bucky finally looks at Steve’s face as he shakes his head.

Something in Steve’s expression twists, his wide earnest eyes betraying all the emotions as they flash past – the denial, the panic, the grief, the sadness, and then the angers it settles on. It’s like a dam breaking, a rush of emotion that rushes free at the admittance, all the guilt and pain hitting him at once.

“I’m sorry,” his throat is dry, the words reluctant to get out. “I’m so sorry, Steve.”

“You’re lying, you’re not like that, Bucky,” Steve protests shakily, “You’re not like them. You can’t be _Hydra_!”

Bucky takes Steve back to his rooms, because he doesn’t know what else he can do. He tells Steve everything, about Pierce and his connections to Hydra – as much as Bucky’s knows of Pierce’s plans for World Order, including the pre-emptive silencing of his threats, Steve included. He digs out the pouch with the poison, and it must finally sink in as Steve takes a step back, fists balled tight as he faces Bucky.

“Well? You going to kill me?”

The tension cuts like a string in that moment, it’s involuntary laughter that bubbles out of Bucky at the sight of Steve, still putting up a hopeless fight even in this absurd situation.

“I wouldn’t, Steve,” Bucky held up his hands in surrender. “I wasn’t going to. Not after I got to know you.”

“How can I trust you?” Steve demands, hollow.

“You can’t. But you’re not toppling over from the poison, so shouldn’t that count for something?”

Steve’s eyes light up, lifting the pack to his eye-level. “Good point,” he murmurs, then he turns toward the door.

At least, it means Steve trusts Bucky enough to turn his back on him. That’s something, right?

The weight on Bucky’s chest doesn’t lift, it almost hurts just to breathe.

*

Bucky spends the next day lingering around the castle hallways, trying to keep an eye on what Steve’s up to, without letting the prince notice.

Instead, he stumbles upon a  commotion outside Pierce’s door, with three guards manhandling Pierce into shackles and dragging him to who-knows-where. (The dungeons, probably, Bucky’s taken a cursory glance the first night when he  reconnoitered the place.

The rest of Pierce’s men are soon arrested, one after another, and Bucky has no doubt where the orders are coming from. He waits, letting himself be seen in the open, but as the afternoon shifts into evening, he doesn’t get his turn with the guards.

He returns to Steve’s rooms, Steve is waiting for him, sitting stiffly on his own with a stubborn expression already plastered on his face.

As soon as Bucky crosses the threshold, closing the door behind him, Steve stands.

“I didn’t tell them about you.”

Bucky tenses, waiting for Steve to continue. But Steve seems to be waiting for Bucky to reply, chin tilted in challenge.

“Thanks?” Bucky tries. At Steve’s darkened expression, he grimaces. “Look, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I let myself believe everything else in this world was shit – how was I to know you were actually kind, and loving, and caring? There’s no way I can kill you now, that’s why I’d rather leave. I would have warned your mother about Pierce and then slip out. You weren’t meant to be hurt.”

Steve’s brow furrows. “Really? It’s a bit too late for not hurting, don’t you think? I gave you my trust.”

“I don’t deserve it, but the truth is, should any threat befall you, I would have protected you with my life. I still would.”

“You’re leaving, so what’s the point?” Steve glares at the floor. “As far as my mother’s concerned, the threat is gone now. I don’t need a bodyguard anymore.” 

“The point is that you don’t have to live under the same roof as a man who was originally sent to kill you!”

“Or maybe you’re just running away?”

His frustration swells, “What would you have me do?”

“Then stay. Prove your loyalty to me. Prove to me that you won’t go back to your mercenary assassin ways.” Steve takes a small step forward.

Bucky swallows. “Do you trust me to do that?” He asks hoarsely.

Steve frowns, “Not yet. But you’ll earn it back, won’t you?”

Bucky searches Steve’s expression, the faintest hint of hope lingering in the way he bites down his lower lip.

“Yeah, Steve.”

“Good,” A tentative smile grows on Steve’s face. “I was just starting to enjoy your company.”

It’s more than Bucky dared to hope for; that Steve would extend a hand and entertain the possibility of a second chance. That would be enough, because he sure won’t throw his chances anymore.

“And I feel the same way,” Bucky says slowly, daring to let a hint of mischief into his smile, “about your gardens, Steve. I was really going to miss them!”

Steve doesn’t hold back with his punch to Bucky’s chest, but the impact hits like the breaking of thousand-year shackles. The laughter escapes from Bucky easily, like a promise – that everything will be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :) 
> 
> Prompt: Steve is a young prince, and Bucky is the new bodyguard assigned to him by the King himself, because there are rumors that someone wants to make an attempt on the Prince’s life.Bucky is actually a mercenary and is being paid by the enemies of the crown (lord Pierce? Baron Zemo? I love some court intrigue) to kill the prince - maybe slowly poisoning him? Making it look like an accident? Of course then he goes and falls in love.


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